Miss Brooks paused to cover her eyes with her slim hand. Tavia noticed
that her hands were white and shapely. After a moment's hesitation Miss
Brooks continued in the same business-like voice she had at first assumed.

"As I have said, I think I can help you." She crossed to the
dressing-table, opened a drawer and took from it a large envelope. From
this envelope she unfolded a sheet of closely typewritten paper. This she
showed to Tavia.

"Is that your signature?" she asked, pointing to the name signed to the
letter.

"Why, yes," stammered Tavia, startled and surprised.

"You are astonished that I should have your letter," said the woman. "But
so-called confidential correspondence travels many miles these days. I
address letters and do penwork for business firms, and have received your
letter among hundreds of others."

A flash of indignation crossed Tavia's face. She wanted to snatch that
letter and tear it into a thousand pieces.

But Miss Brooks was quick to discern her indignation.

"Of course, I am responsible for every letter," she said. "In fact, I run
a great risk in even showing this to you. But I felt I would have to make
sure--that you were the party--involved."

Tavia felt like a culprit.